Two Kings
by black-ostia
Summary: The captive lion in the zoo marvels when he spots a miniature version of his kind staring at him through the bars of his cage. Just for fun.


**agk…product of watching too much _cats_+ reading _listening for lions_ (that's a good book, by the way). dedicated to musicalskies and electrajellicle11.**

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Elexeir was resting in his tiny excuse for a cage, his eyes only half-closed to peer at the passersby.

He had every reason to be curious. Despite the fact that these humans had stolen nearly everything from him for their own meager purposes, they were interesting. There had been very few humans from where he came from, and they avoided his kind most of the time. He chuckled softly at the antics of a human cub trying to reach out to him through the bars, its mother scolding it as she pulled it away. On the streets an old human moved about the streets clumsily, poking at plastic wrappers, dried leaves, and bits of fruit peelings with a broom. Under an ancient, gnarled acacia tree, seated on the grassy turf, a male and his mate nuzzled each other affectionately.

Elexeir turned his attention to his own mate. Zyele was curled up at his side, her thin flanks rising up and down with every breath. He fondly licked the top of her head. She sighed and shifted, then lay still again.

Elexeir stood up slowly, as not to wake his mate, and padded over to the drinking hole the humans had set up for them. As he lapped at the water, watching the ripples his great red tongue made, he stopped for a moment, and stared.

He barely recognized himself. What was left of the proud, lithe, majestic king of the plains had dwindled to a scrawny, out-of-place alien in this cruel environment. His mane was unkempt and flimsy like trampled grass; his hide no longer shone with the rays of the savannah sun; and the fire of life in his great ebony-colored eyes had died out. He sighed. Elexeir Noroellon was a king no longer.

In his misery, he looked up, as if fate decreed it, straight into the face of a highly unusual animal he'd never seen before.

It was small, even smaller than a newborn cub, and quite handsome. Its body, seated on the ground, was strangely similar to his, but lighter and sleeker, shining glossy black in the light. Its bushy black-and-gold tail swished about in a nervous manner like it had a life of its own. Its golden head was cocked to one side, its round green eyes wide with shock.

But what caught Elexeir off guard was the mane. It had a mane like his, a well-groomed mane that shone with the tawny yellow gold of the felidae. What on earth…_What was this creature?_

For a few moments their stares held. Finally he managed to walk overand sit in front of it, the bars the only things separating the two. The creature jumped a foot in the air and hissed, its body arched, its fur strangely standing on end, making it look like an agitated fur ball. Once Elexeir realized its intent was to frighten him, he raised an eyebrow in amusement. Something that small was trying to scare _him_?

"I won't hurt you, little one," he said gently, avoiding the laugh that rose in his throat. It seemed to relax a bit at this, though its hair still spiked up. It glared at him (I repeat, _glared_) and spat, "I'm not _little_, wise guy, far from it."

Again Elexeir was caught off guard; its voice was deep and masculine, defiant and angry. He had expected the creature to squeak and faint or something else as drastic. But its spunk amused him even more. "You are little in my standards," he chuckled, and before the creature could protest again, he asked, "May I ask what kind of animal you are?"

It puffed its mane and squinted at him haughtily, as if he ought to know. "I'm a cat, duh!" He groomed its front leg temporarily, then added proudly, "Maine Coon, to be exact."

Elexeir had no idea what _Maine Coon_ was…but _cat_? This tiny, egotistic thing was a _cat_? It was just so uncanny…

"But I'm a cat as well," he said, voicing his thoughts. At this the so-called _cat's_ head jerked up in surprise. "You're too big for a cat!" it blurted.

"And you're too small for one," Elexeir retorted. They stared at each other uneasily. The cat finally broke the silence, asking, "Well, what kinda of cat are _you_, then?"

_That_ was the question he'd been waiting to hear. He straightened himself and began talking as if he was an announcer in a cat show: "I am Elexeir Noroellon, Leader of the Latika Pride, a King among the Felidae." He rose to his full one and a half meters for a more dramatic effect. Instead, the cat snorted. "And I thought I was a show-off." Its sneers were replaced by frowns. "Whaddya mean, _King among the Felidae_?"

"I am a lion, little one. Even humans call me a king…and I see no reason why they don't." He sat down again, sighing. "Well, I'm no king here," he said bitterly. "Back home…back home, well that's a different story. Oh, home!" He shook his head sadly. The smaller cat looked up at him, all trace of cockiness gone from him, replaced by pure respect. "What happened?" it asked in a small voice that didn't seem to be its own.

"Humans happened, that's what," Elexeir replied wryly. One night, he relayed, they sneaked up on them in their sleep. They put up a fight, alright, guns against teeth and claws, but they managed to knock them all out with tranquilizer darts. The next morning they were in a crate being shipped to London, with only his mate and no idea where the others were. "And now we're stuck here." He put his head between his paws miserably; his voice breaking as he said, "I'd give anything, _anything_ to turn things back…find my pride and return to Africa."

He stretched and, without thinking, began spinning tales about Africa. Africa! _His_ Africa! His home! It helped to talk about it (though he doubted the cat knew much about what he was saying): about waking up to the calls of plump wood pigeons and the ever-glaring red sun; about watching their lithe cheetah cousins race away and leave the world behind; about wrestling with his cubs and nearly falling into the water hole of the giant yet peaceful elephants; about enjoying the thrills of a hunt that was – he admitted this in a rather embarrassed tone – not really his; about the mouth-watering raw meat of gazelle or antelope; about gazing over his pride under the starry sky with a sense of happiness…one he'd never feel again.

The small cat kept interrupting every ten seconds, asking about gazelles, or how big elephants were, of why the males didn't hunt for themselves, among other countless things. Elexeir answered all its queries patiently, actually quite amused by them. How small this little cat's world was!

The small cat scratched at its side with its hind foot as it said, "Whew! I'm glad I have humans!"

It was Elexeir's turn to jerk up, surprised. "You're acquainted with humans?"

"Yeah, they're actually pretty dumb. But nice if they want to."

Elexeir snorted at this. "_Nice_? Oh yes, they must be nice to charming little ones like you," he said, his voice the exact opposite of his words.

"I have a name, in case you didn't know, mate, so stop calling me _little one_!" He glared ominously at Elexeir, who just chuckled.

"Then what shall I call you?"

"It's the Rum Tum Tugger, King of the Junkyard," he sniffed, sticking his black nose between the bars.

Elexeir burst out laughing, which sounded like a geat bronze bell tolling across the area. "Oh yes, you're a king," he chuckled. "And your name befits you as well!"

"Blame my dad for that," the Rum Tum Tugger said, rolling his eyes, which suddenly widened like moons. "Oh, Heaviside! _Dad_!" He sprang to his paws. "I completely forgot about the meeting!" And, with unusual speed that Elexeir didn't know he had, he shot off, but not before he hesitantly turned around a good few meters away. "Can I…come back…tomorrow? And hear more about Africa?"

Elexeir was surprised at first, then smiled, his eyes glistening like starry African skies. "You may, little one, you may." The Rum Tum Tugger rolled his eyes again and resumed his race for life.

Elexeir got up, sad that his entertainment had left so soon. "Were you talking with someone, dear?" Zyele asked as he lay beside her. He stared into her eyes, her beautiful Nile-green eyes, and realized life wasn't so bad after all.

"A friend, my love," he murmured, nuzzling her. "A friend."

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"_Tugger_!" Munkustrap bellowed, sounding for all in the world like a second Old Deuteronomy, who hadn't even opened his mouth, just sat there chuckling at his son's antics as he landed from a pile of junk onto his youngest. Munkustrap glared at his irresponsible brother while pushing him off. "Where in Heaviside's name have you been?"

"Re_lax_." Tugger smoothed his mane in such an imperious way he knew would irritate his worrywart of a brother. If he only knew what amazing world he just discovered...but he'd just tell them later.

"Was just chatting with a friend is all."

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**well? _well_? you all know purrfectly well what to do next! good or bad comments are welcome.**


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